


Wings of Fire and Time

by JunChai



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dragons, Fluff and Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), James Griffin (Voltron) Being an Asshole, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Magic, Much plot, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), POV Alternating, Pining James Griffin (Voltron), Plot, Prince James - Freeform, Secrets, Slow Burn, With A Twist, and also not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunChai/pseuds/JunChai
Summary: After the corruption had taken its root, war fell upon the kingdoms of Voltron. Dragons and magic ran scarce until news of the riders of Voltron reached the human kingdom of Garrison. In an alliance of necessity, Altea and Garrison seek each other's strength to defeat the kingdom of Daibazzal and the corruption that it brings.





	1. For Spring Brings Roses and Surprise

When James last saw Keith, it was a week after the Battle of Kerberos. Commander Sanda had called all of the recruits for a briefing. There was rain, mud, the dulled stench of sweat and blood. They stood in an almost palpable tension. Everyone knew why they were there, boots sinking in mud and sleep tunics soaked through with rain.

They were still young at the time. The age of the recruits ranged from twelve to seventeen and they were often knighted at eighteen. Keith and James were only thirteen then. Shirogane had only been seventeen, one of the youngest officers in Garrison.

James remembered seeing Keith through the rain, bangs glued to his face and eyes sunken with dread. Keith didn't see him though. His eyes had never left Commander Sanda. It was at the sound of her first words that James had seen Keith shatter. In all the years that he had known Keith, he had never seen him as weak, but he was weak then and James felt weak watching him fall to his knees in the mud. That was the first time that James had noticed just how small Keith was. When he laid his coat over the other boy's shoulders, it almost slid off in the width of its own. James knew that Keith was strong, but he knew then that he was also human, something he had tried hard to convince himself against in the years before.

After that night, Keith had disappeared. The commanders speculated that he went after Shirogane and that he would be long dead. The only thing James had known about Keith in all their time together was how much he loved Shirogane. That, he knew, the commanders were right about, but he wouldn't let himself believe that he was dead. Not yet. Keith was strong and ferocious. He knew it better than anyone except maybe Shirogane. James thought he could survive anything.

But James thought he might never see Keith again for it would be nearly impossible to find an orphan boy without a house or title.

Six years had passed before he had become wrong.

It was spring now and James was nineteen. The flowers in the royal gardens had blossomed into their full beauty in a rainbow of colors. Floral vines crawled the castle walls and the sounds of fiddles and flutes played through the streets of the Garrison capital. The capital would be filled with market stalls of fresh produce, flowers, lanterns, and jewelry of the finest quality. Storytellers occupied the corners of streets where children sat with excitement, intently depositing the stories of the magical beasts that roamed the skies into their memories. There would be dancing, too. It was one of the most joyous times in all of Voltron's kingdoms: the Season of the Dragon Festival.

James had heard tales of similar celebrations across Voltron's kingdoms though aside from Garrison, he had only seen the Dragon Festival of Altea, once, before the war with Daibazzal, before King Alfor and the queen had died at the hands of Emperor Zarkon. Altea had been a magical place, much more so than Garrison with its one academy of the elements and small population of gifted. Altea was full of the gifted and magic and potions and everything fantastical that he could imagine and even those he couldn’t. James had been jealous then. Maybe if they had magic like the Alteans, Daibazzal wouldn’t have been able to cause them so much destruction. He didn’t think that way anymore.

“. . . And just when the corrupted beast had reared its head to fire upon Garrison, the riders of Voltron had swooped down from the skies.” James’ feet stopped as he approached a small group of storytellers. Young boys in dragon masks with scales painted over their bare arms circled around a large man with the mask of the beast. “The green dragon trapped the beast in vines of thorns.” The dragon boy in green-painted scales and tunic tossed ropes covered in leaves over the man who in turn, began to roar and squirm. “Then, the blue dragon, with the power of ice and water, froze the beast. He was paralyzed!” The boy in blue extended his hands and suddenly a wall of ice had formed around the man in the center. He was gifted, James thought.

“The beast had been defeated, but the battle was not won yet. The corruption continued to turn the dragon beasts and people away from the light of Voltron. The black rider and Emperor of the Galra, Zarkon, fell to the corruption.”

Small gasps echoed around the group of children, but James' gaze turned aside and caught sight of another cloaked figure. The cloak was Altean of origin. The intricate golden design etched into shades of blue was far from the typical oranges and browns of Garrison. “Zarkon turned his people from the light of Voltron and waged war upon Voltron's kingdoms with corrupted beasts and mutilated monsters. The Galra took the Keeper of Dragons and the Dragon Lands were lost to the people, protected by a magic of concealment. . .” James watched as the young actors danced around to the story, depicting the splitting of the kingdoms and the tension that rose through the lands. A young Garrison girl pushed through the curtain, cheeks painted with blue Altean markings and hair dyed the silver of Altean royalty. James heard a soft laugh. “The Dragon Festival held the promise of Voltron to rise again and the promise of unity between the kingdoms. This Festival we celebrate a renewed unity with Altea.” A young Garrison boy emerged, cloaked in orange and brown with a crown made of twigs. The two held hands and bowed to the sea of children that cooed and cheered at the story. When James glanced back to the side, the Altean was clapping softly along with the children.

James had noticed many blue cloaks among those at the festival this year. The union with Altea had brought together the two kingdoms with an invitation for the princess and all of Altea to celebrate Dragon Festival in Garrison. He noticed how orange and blue blended and mingled, how a Garrison boy would pin a flower in an Altean girl's hair as traditional Garrison courting demanded, how an Altean girl would gift a necklace that held a heart-shaped vial of sweet amoris as they did in Altea. Despite the war that plagued them both, the atmosphere of this Dragon Festival had been more celebratory than any James had ever known.

The Altean in blue spotted James and dropped her hood. She had long, red hair and marks of green on her cheeks. A gentle smile tugged at her lips as she met his eyes. James thought she was beautiful as were all of the Alteans that he had met thus far. He hadn't met the princess yet, but he was certain she must be beautiful, too, and bearing of magic.

James had resigned rather quickly and without protest to the marriage with Altea. He had no reason to turn it down. His faith in Voltron did not extend to the blessings of love. Not anymore. But James knew that Altea had magic and power and dragon riders, all things that Garrison was in desperate need of. If he was to marry, at least he could marry for his kingdom.

As James passed through the streets towards the capital gates, he thought to stop by a market stall of flowers. The Garrison woman that stood behind the stall was petite, her cream tunic tucked into a skirt of brown. When James approached, she was busy talking with another man so he took to browsing the flowers. He knew nothing of the princess or Alteans, but he knew flowers and Garrison courting.

His attention was drawn away by the sound of music and giggling. A dance circle had formed not far from the flower stall. He took immediate notice of the two Altean boys amidst a sea of Garrison girls. Musicians circled around, enticing dance from the crowds. One of the Alteans had taken to the festivities right away, joining the girls in Garrison folk dances, but James found that his eyes lingered on the other as the girls tugged on his arms in an attempt to drag him into the dances as well. From the distance, James could make out a head of wild, raven hair that shifted uncomfortably among the crowd. There was something that struck James as familiar about the boy.

“Flowers for a lady friend?” he heard the flower shop owner ask.

His attention was back on the flowers and the woman. “I'll take a Garrison courting rose.” he replied simply.

James took the flower from the woman in exchange for a few draakon and continued to the gates of the castle. Looking back at the capital, he could see the gates to the city that rose high above the cottages and stalls, but during the festival, they remained open for all to celebrate the dragon. People still poured in through the overlarge wooden doors, but it was the Altean carriage that caught his eye, dusted in gold, pink, and blue, and pulled by the Kelpies of Altea's seashores. It was already through the gates and blue-cloaked figures surrounded the carriage. They must have been Altean guards.

A slap on the shoulder startled James' gaze away from the carriage. “Hey, Loverboy! Ready to meet your princess? Might want to say hi before she ditches you for that sexy Altean guard.”

James gently pushed the hand from his shoulder with a sigh. “If she ditches me, she risks war between three kingdoms.”

“Wow, never knew you were such a romantic. At least, you have _this_.” she announced, pointing to the flower in his hand. “Maybe there's still some hope that she won't absolutely hate you.”

“Shut it, Nadia.” he snapped though there was no venom behind his words. Having known Nadia since they were young, he was familiar with her teasing. Even before recruit training, James and Nadia had known each other from the royal court. The house of Rizavi was quite prominent among the nobles in Garrison. Some had even discussed an arrangement between the two before Nadia had joined the recruits.

Nadia rolled her eyes and frowned at him, but she didn't say another word before trotting off to join the Garrison guards at the castle gates. James stepped forward and entered the castle walking up steps after steps and through corridor after corridor until he arrived at the throne room. Through the windows of the hall, he could see the carriage open and a figure emerge. The princess, he assumed, though her cloak still shadowed her face and figure from his view.

James turned and retreated past the guards and into the room. King Iverson sat upon the throne and alongside him, the queen. James took his seat on the throne a step below his parents. The court had already filed into their positions on either side of the throne. The silence that always filled the air before a meeting like this had been deafening to a young James, in a time when he had thought that thrones and royal courts and frilly tunics were not suited for him. Times had changed and so had James. The silence no longer felt deafening, only minorly annoying to the part of James that still despised the deceptive court. The throne of the heir prince fit him well now.

When the large doors to the room finally creaked open, James had expected to see a small band of Alteans, trailing behind a noble woman with hair of silver and a crown worthy of a princess. What he saw instead was a face that he had never imagined seeing again.

He looked different now. White hair instead of black, older with more scars and more muscle, and a hand of metal. He stood aside the woman with silver hair and on her other side, a spindly man with bright orange hair. James didn’t miss the looks of shock that filled the room.

But the princess seemed unbothered by the atmosphere. She took a graceful step forward with all the commanding presence of a future leader. James noted that she was tall - possibly even as tall as himself - and just as beautiful as he had imagined her to be. “You have met.” were the first words to fall from her lips. Her eyebrows were raised incredulously as if her words had been a question, but the court remained silent.

After a moment of confusion, King Iverson finally filled the gap. “Princess Allura, I believe we are unsure what you mean.”

“Takashi of house Shirogane,” she announced, directing a decorated hand towards the figure to her side. “Commander of Altea’s guard and rider of Voltron.” Then, her other hand extended to the opposing side. “Coran, advisor to the throne.”

James knew that not one person paid any mind to the man with orange hair. All attention had been focused on the other and James thought that Shirogane did look a bit unsettled.

The king cleared his throat before addressing the situation. “This is quite the shock.”

“Your Majesty,” Shirogane chimed in. “I apologize for my absence and change of allegiance. I am afraid it was not a choice that I had any options in.”

“He speaks the truth, King Iverson.” the princess stated and James could almost feel the eyes of the court slide to eye her calculatingly. “I feel I must apologize on behalf of Altea for taking such a wonderful commander from you. It has been a long journey at the mercy of Voltron’s will. If I may suggest this as a discussion for another time. . . It would be a shame to ruin such a joyous occasion with the tragedy of war.”

James watched his father’s jaw clench. He could picture the worries and doubts running through his mind. They had thought Shirogane to be dead at the hands of Daibazzal. No prisoner had ever come back alive from the horrors that Zarkon delivered to prisoners. James could only imagine. “Very well.” he finally replied with a sigh. “We will surely discuss this later. For now, we would like to welcome you to Garrison. James will show to your chambers for the duration of your stay here. If you wish to participate in the festivities, you only need inform any of the royal guard here. They would be happy to accompany you and James.”

The princess’ hands folded neatly in front of her skirts. “I appreciate your consideration, Your Grace, but I do have my own guard. Commander Shirogane and the other riders of Voltron are quite capable.”

“Yes, it was only an offer of good graces. We are honored to have the expertise of the Voltron among the ranks of Garrison.”

“And we are honored to have been extended your invitation. It was Voltron’s wish that we be allies against the corruption. I hope we can be of help to each other in these dark times.”

If James had learned one thing about his queen-to-be during this meeting, it would be that she was incredibly assertive, compelling. He supposed she would do well as matriarch of Altea.

The end of the meeting was signified by the opening of the throne room doors. Four blue-cloaks stood awaiting the princess alongside the Garrison guards stationed outside the doors. If James had been shocked before, he was stunned now, drowning in a sea of violet that would always be burned into his memory.


	2. For Spring is a Season of Renewal

When Keith last saw James, it had been cold and wet and he could still remember the unfamiliar coat that dusted his shoulders. His heart had ached then with an anguish that not even a thousand swords through the chest could bring. Shiro was the only thing he had cared about, the only thing he had left to care about. He was alone then. He was alone before. He had thought then that maybe he would be alone forever.

Vaguely, so vaguely, he could remember the mud and the rain, James dropping a coat over his shoulders. Something desperate in him had clung to that coat, clung to the fragment of care that it had implied. In his time as a recruit, James had been one of few to bother sparing any attention for the titleless, orphan boy with no right to knighthood other than on the word of a decorated officer. While James had often antagonized him in front of the other recruits, there were moments like that day, and a series of half-smiles and whispered praises, moments before they had become recruits, when Keith had thought that perhaps James wasn't what he pretended to be. To survive, they had to meet the expectations of those that held power over them; Keith knew it well. An orphan boy was no asset to a prince.

Keith was one in a million faces that a prince would forget.

Still, Keith couldn't help the gnawing pain that had sunk its teeth around his heart, begging him to find comfort in a friendship that he didn't have. In all of Voltron's kingdoms, the only living person he knew well enough now to call an acquaintance was James, the one who had lent his coat to Keith on that day.

Keith was bold and reckless. He wasn't blind to that fact. But it hadn’t felt bold and reckless then, only desperate. For something. Anything. To bring color to his never-ending grey.

Perhaps he had just been young and naïve.

_I'll wait by the training fields with your coat._  
_-Keith_

The script was clumsy and Keith had cursed his status then. He had only learned to write after becoming a recruit and surely, James had been writing since his fingers could support a quill. Keith had imagined that his script must be beautiful, elegant, princely. It was a bitter realization. In the order of the world, Keith had been the very bottom, always looking up.

And he found himself looking up to the stars, as he waited with coat in hand, back against the wooden fence of the fields. They were bright and beautiful and a painful reminder of Shiro’s absence, but it had been hard to look away because they were also a reminder of the times that Shiro had spent with him, drawing patterns through the stars.

Six years had passed since Keith had seen his homeland and longer still since he had seen a festival. It was strange to be back in Garrison as it poured in festivity and the flowers of spring. Through the window across the hall, he could almost see the entirety of the event. Shiro had taken him to a Dragon Festival once, before he was old enough for recruit training. It was the only time he had ever been and the memory played vividly through his mind. Shiro was young then. Perhaps about fifteen? Keith hadn’t yet been entirely comfortable around him, rebellious and troubled, but Shiro still smiled and talked and let him play any festival games that he had wanted. _“Don’t worry about the price.” _he had said. _“You’ll have plenty of draakon from now on. You can have whatever you want.”_ Keith took his words seriously. It was a fond memory.

A nudge to his side had Keith looking up from his windowed thoughts. Pidge was smiling up at him warmly. “Are you excited for the festival?”

Keith returned the smile though his thoughts were conflicted. “I don’t really know what to expect. It looks fun. . . I guess?”

“No way.” Lance interjected, pointing an accusing finger at Keith. “This guy doesn’t even know what fun is. And he can’t dance! How can you have a Dragon Festival without dancing?” Both Keith and Pidge’s eyes rolled with exasperation as Lance pushed his way into the conversation.

“Lance, c’mon man. How long are you going to hold that against Keith? I’m not much of a dancer either, you know.” Hunk mercifully tried to pull Lance back to position.

“Ask Keith.”

“I’m not holding anything against you, Lance. . .” Keith replied with a brow raised in confusion.

“Of course, _you’re_ not holding anything against me! You’re the one who ruined our chance with those Altean girls. Not me, Keith. That was you.” Lance sighed, leaning an arm on Keith’s shoulder. “We could have had great festivals dates tomorrow. . .”

“There won’t be any festival dates anyway.” Keith stated, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re escorting Allura and the prince tomorrow. I know you’re excited to be back, but you’ll have a chance to enjoy the festival later. Right now, we have a responsibility.”

“Wow, are you sure you’re Keith?” Pidge teased with a smirk. “I could’ve sworn I just heard Shiro right now.”

There were a few groans, but Keith found himself smiling as he sent everyone back to position against the wall. It was then that the doors to the throne room had begun to creak open and Keith felt his breath hitch. Allura emerged from the room and beside her, a figure that Keith recognized immediately. He looked the same only taller, broader, more angular. . . No, he had changed. He wasn’t the same mischievous young boy that Keith had known. There was something different in the way he walked through the space between the doors. As James turned his head to observe the dragon riders, Keith felt those storm-filled eyes lock onto his own.

He didn’t know what James was thinking then; he was never very good at reading expressions and James hadn’t spoken. He just stood before them with his arms laced behind him and a thin halo of gold nested in his hair. Everyone in the hall had started to bow and Keith followed suit.

“These are the other dragon riders and my guards: Sir Keith, Lord Lance, Sir Hunk, and Lady Pidge.” Allura announced as she gestured towards each of them. “They were all Garrison-born, but Lance and Pidge are of noble birth. Perhaps you remember them?”

“I remember.” It was James, Keith knew by the voice, soft but always certain. “It has been years now. We have sent word of their return to House Holt and McClain.”

Pidge stepped forward and bowed lower. “We’re very grateful, Your Highness.”

“Shall we show them to their chambers first?” Allura chimed in. “It was a long journey here. I’m sure they are quite tired.”

“Of course.” The prince sent a small gesture to their left before he started down the hall. “You will all be staying in the east wing, typically reserved for noble guests of the crown.”

“And where do you stay, Prince James?” Allura questioned as she stepped into stride beside him. Keith and the others followed in tow.

“The royal chambers and chambers for royal advisors and relatives of the crown are located in the west wing. My chambers are there.”

It wouldn’t take long to reach the east wing from the throne room. Keith remembered it all quite well despite the length of time that had passed in absence. The familiar cobblestone, tapestries hung against the walls, decorated with portraits of former kings and queens, ministers, nobles. Nothing had changed. . . yet. But Keith imagined that Allura’s portrait would soon hang beside a newer portrait of the next king. Keith let his eyes linger on the portrait of the prince, the young prince that Keith had remembered.

Keith turned his head to find Shiro’s eyes on him. His expressions were more readable to Keith than others, but he still struggled to place them more often than not. Fortunately, Shiro was rather open with Keith. It wasn’t quite happy, but it wasn’t quite sad. _What?_ he signed curiously with a shake of his hands.

Shiro’s lips pursed as if it was a challenge to consider the question. _I’m worried about you, _he signed back. Keith sighed. He had good reason to worry, Keith supposed, but he wasn’t the same little boy from back then.

_I’m more worried about you._

_Why?_ Shiro’s eyebrows creased in confusion.

_King Iverson. The court. Kerberos. Will you be okay?_

_Don’t worry. _He offered Keith a bright smile as if to prove he was fine. _I want to talk later. Let’s meet at the caves._

_Alright._

They came to a halt at the end of a long corridor that fanned out into a crescent of baroque wooden doors. The ceiling was vaulted, and statues of dragons sat upon the pillars at the edges of the room. It seemed fitting though Keith knew the embellishments had been there long before to bring the blessings of Voltron to those guests of the crown. He had always liked the dragon ornaments. It was one of the few parts of the castle that had felt inviting, a symbol of unity that anyone under Voltron’s kingdoms could find relief in. At least, it had been, and it was for Keith.

_“The Dragons protect us, Keith. That’s why the castle is filled with them, everywhere, so Voltron will know that we accept his blessing. We have to be thankful for what Voltron has given us.” The language wasn’t Common, but it was a language that Keith knew well, far better than Common. His father set a bowl of porridge on the small table of their servant chambers in front of him._

_“There weren’t any dragons where we were before.” _

_“No, there weren’t. It wasn’t a good place, was it? Things will be better for us here. Voltron will take care of us here.”_

Dragons were Keith’s freedom. He knew so more now than then. His life certainly hadn’t been ideal, but when he met Red, he knew that Voltron had to be looking out for him. There was no way that someone like him could bond with such a powerful beast without the help of Voltron.

Keith pulled himself out of his mind just in time to hear James assign the rooms. His room was the farthest to the right, next to Pidge. With that aside, James and Allura parted with the knights to “walk the gardens” as Shiro had put it and Keith found himself facing the door to his chambers in all of its extravagant glory. Even the feel of the metal handle on the tips of his fingers carried the weight of royalty or at the very least, nobility. With two feet through the doorway, Keith let the door creak closed behind him.

He wasn’t surprised by the room; he had seen it before, after all, but to be the occupant of such of room, he couldn’t even begin to understand.

Red called to him through the quintessence that held their minds together. He could vaguely see the Dragon Caves of Garrison when he shut his eyes. They were only a remnant of what Keith imagined they had been when dragons had been a commonality in Garrison. He could see servants, likely stablehands, that were continuously working to free the caves of cobwebs and dirt, spread dried mellowgrass across the stone, and any number of chores to make the caves worthy of great dragons again. Red shook her head ferociously at one of the hands as he passed by and he quickly scurried away in horror. _Ever the mischievous_, Keith thought to himself as she sent a satisfied hum to him.

Keith let his hand brush gently over the velvet fabric of a sofa centered across from the hearth. The suite was beautiful and he let Red sense every bit of the beauty with him so she could be reassured despite the conflicted feelings that she could no doubt feel from him. The bed was separated from the main room by an engraved wooden partition, extending from one end of the room almost to the other and the bath was separated by an intricate archway.

Opening the wardrobe in the corner of the room revealed outfits of every kind and every occasion. Keith plucked a set of riding attire consisting of a form-fitting blouse and leather vest, breeches accented by leather at points of contact, and a pair of tall boots. Then, he was scurrying out the door to find Red at the caves.

It was quite a far walk from the castle. Keith found himself surrounded by servants insisting that he be taken by horse and he relented. When he finally arrived at the caves, he found Shiro waiting by a partition with Black’s head peaking over, nudging Shiro’s hand for attention.

“Keith,” he called as the other approached. At the sound of the name, a Red head popped up over the partition next to the one belonging to the black dragon. Keith smiled at the gesture. “She’s been pouting since I arrived. I’m sure she was hoping I was you.” Shiro continued as he watched the exchange.

“And yet she seemed perfectly content before. Maybe she just doesn’t like you.” Keith teased, moving to cup his hands around the red dragon’s long nose.

Shiro smiled back at him with the fondness of an older brother. “That could be true. She certainly won’t let me ride her, after all.” He let a silence ensue for a moment as Keith smoothed down the scales of Red’s face, fire-red with a white blaze and soft black accents. A deceivingly delicate face. “How are you feeling?” Shiro breached the silence gently.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Keith replied, eyes slipping from the mud on Red’s cheek to watch Shiro nod. “I couldn’t even speak Common then.”

Shiro chuckled. “Yeah. It was quite the struggle to communicate with you. You were really cute though so I had to try.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Who knew? Dirty, starving thieves can be cute, too.”

“You were.” Shiro gave him a casual shrug.

“Thinking about that time,” Keith took a breath in consideration. “I wasn’t happy then, but the memory of it. . . It’s happy.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Another moment of silence passed before Shiro tried again. “Do you have other happy memories here?”

“Yeah.” Keith smiled, letting his eyes leave Red to settle on Shiro’s face. “I have a lot of happy memories. It’s hard to be completely unhappy about being here, but I still feel. . . out of place, I suppose. It always seems like the unhappy memories are the easiest to recall.”

Shiro nodded along with Keith’s words. “Shall we try to forget the unhappy memories for awhile?” he offered, tossing a small bag in Keith’s direction. He was trying to take it slow. He always did with Keith.

“What’s this?” Keith asked, pulling up the flap at the top to get a peak.

“Lunch. You wanted to go for a ride, right? Let’s get away for a bit.”

Keith couldn’t help the bright smile that spread across his face.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr here: https://chaitii.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
